Page 60 of Heartless Boss
Today I have a big fish to fry. That fish is Cora, so I’m swinging by her house to pick her up. I don’t want to keep my promise to Cora about meeting Alana, but I can’t keep feeding her lies. I should have told my family and Gia that I am bringing Cora to meet them, but I figure if they are caught off guard and I explain everything to them they will be accepting of her.
I decide to skip my morning run and throw on a gray sweater with black denim jeans. September is not my favorite month because the weather becomes fucking confused. It gets cold in the morning and by afternoon, I’m suffering from heatstroke. I head downstairs to the kitchen. Gia’s wearing a pale yellow sweater with white jeans and her wavy hair is damp. She stuffs a green bean casserole into the oven. Plates of mac and cheese, steak, sweet peas, mashed potatoes, and lemon pie litter the counters. She got up at the ass-crack of dawn and slaved over a hot stove for my family. And they better eat every fucking drop of her food, or I’ll shove it down their throats. Normally, my ma does all the cooking at the family events, but a few days ago, Gia had me call her and tell her she’d be doing all the cooking. Ma gushed about Gia like they are best friends.
I clasp my arms around her waist, and she smiles at me like I hung the entire solar system for her. And if I could, I would. Her apple-scented perfume invades my nostrils to the point where I have to fight not to grow hard. She spins around, stands on her toes, kisses my lips, and slings her arms around my shoulders. As she pulls away, she studies my face and tilts her head sideways.
“What’s wrong, Wolf? You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“I need my coffee,” I lie. In reality, I need Jack Daniel’s to take the edge off. I’m pretty sure I’m the reason why liquor companies are successful. But coffee will do, for now. I need to be sober for this.
She moves to the coffee machine and grabs a white mug from the top shelf that says, “I didn’t fart, I blew a kiss from my ass” and pours the dark liquid, shoving it in my hand.
I take slow slips as it burns my tongue; she watches me like a hawk as she twirls the end of her damp hair.
“What?” I say, setting the mug down.
“Nothing. There is something I want to tell you.” Her voice is soft as silk.
I was worried she would run for the hills after I told her about my PTSD. Normal women would leave my ass in the dust. Normal women would use that information to blackmail me and get money out of me.
Gia isn’t normal.
After I finish the coffee, I set the mug in the sink. She swallows hard and embarrassment colors her face.
“Are you waiting for pigs to fly? Spit it out.”
She twist a strain of hair that’s floating in front of her forehead. Before I can milk the answer out of her, the doorbell rings. It’s showtime atThe Apollo.
“We’ll talk about it later,” she says, opening the fridge, grabbing a carton of milk and pouring it in a pink bowl. She started adding colorful plates and bowls to this kitchen. I rush to the door and open it.
My ma and Herold stroll in, and Ma pulls me into a tight hug as if she hasn’t seen me in years. Herold slaps me on my back.
“You got any beer, son?” He rubs his bald head and scrunches up his pointy nose. He’s wearing a leather jacket over his plaid black shirt with his potbelly hanging over his denim jeans.
“Yeah, check the fridge and stay away from the mac and cheese. The last time you ate that shit, your farts stank so bad it smelled like something crawled up your ass and died.”
His belly moves as he laughs. I was dead-ass serious.
“Where’s Gia?” Ma asks, excitement glinting in her eyes. Ma wants to form a mother-daughter bond with her. Gia does too, but she’s too shy to approach my ma. I tell her all the time that my ma doesn’t mind her calling, but Gia says she’ll wait until she approaches her.
“She’s in the kitchen cooking,” I answer, grabbing the car keys from the hook by the door.
“Where are you going?” Ma asks.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” I say, dropping a kiss to her forehead before heading out the door.
* * *
Inside the car, Cora talks my ear off about how she’s excited to meet Alana and Cydney. Rylee wants to move into the house I purchased for them after dinner. It’s a small townhome, and it’s a few miles from my mansion. The only reason why I did this is because I want Cora to be close to me. She starts school in the next two weeks and I want her to get settled in her new home. So, Rylee finally decided to allow Cora to spend the week with me. Even though Rylee is a half-ass mom, I still have to look after her because she’s Cora’s mom. Besides, it’s my job as a man to take care of them.
Rylee decided to invite herself to my family cookout. I don’t mind her tagging along, but I don’t want to add more problems to the shit show that’s about to happen. The last few Sundays she’s been acting weird and distant. Not like I give a fuck, but I asked Cora last week if Rylee has a boyfriend. Cora told me she doesn’t know. If she does, I need to know who he is so I can know whether or not he’s a good guy.
Two hours and some change later, I pull up next to Alana’s black Range Rover and kill the engine. I close my eyes and open them, resting my head on the back of the seat. My heart hammers in my fucking chest.
Cora grabs her book bag, and I pop the trunk, pull out her pink suitcase decorated with Dragon Ball Z stickers, and roll it to the stairway.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Slowly, I open the door and hear Alana giggling.
